


Winter's Gift

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Dragon Age: Origins, 9:37 Dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Gift

The first snow fell early this year, towards the last days of Harvestmere. By Satinalia the palace grounds were covered in a white carpet of snow, and Eilin woke up each morning to the crisp, keen-edged winds of winter.

Alistair was rarely there when she awoke. As the years passed his duties kept him busier and busier, and sometimes she didn’t see him until dinner -- or until she woke in the middle of the night to his arms around her.

Eilin didn’t mind so much. She had Rylan to take care of, and he kept her busy enough during the day. But Rylan was sleeping, and it was Satinalia, and even kings and queens could take a day to celebrate. That was what she told Alistair when he came out to the garden, still in his court clothes.

“I had a meeting with Eamon,” Alistair said, once he’d caught up to her. “He insisted. He said it was very important.”

Eilin took his hand and began to lead him down the garden path, sweeping snow out of the way as they walked. “And was it?”

“It was about the decorations for the midday feast,” Alistair said with an exasperated sigh. “I mean, really. You’d think he just wanted to drag me out of bed earlier. With this sort of weather, I’d rather be in front of the fire.”

“With me,” Eilin said, and kissed his knuckles. “Under the covers. Preoccupying you, so to speak.” Alistair laughed, prompting her to grin in turn. “You don’t blush as much as you used to, chantry boy.”

“I think I’ve heard just about everything from you,” Alistair replied, and glanced at the wrapped bundle in her free hand. “What’s that?”

“Your Satinalia gift.”

The obsidian dagger gleamed dull white as Alistair unwrapped it and turned it slowly, inspecting the hilt and blade.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he murmured, and scratched a fingernail along the flat of the blade. “Where did you get it?”

“It was Duncan’s,” Eilin said. “Or it was.”

Alistair shot her a glance. “This? Really? I don’t remember Duncan owning anything like this.”

“They found it in the Keep.” Eilin knelt by the garden and began to clear the snow away from the flowers. “Nathaniel wrote to me about it. There was a long story behind the weapon itself, and how Duncan came to acquire it.”

“Tell me.”

“I will,” Eilin said, and stood up. “But first, I have something else for you.”

She threw the snowball she’d been holding. Alistair was quick, she’d give him that -- the snowball hit him in the shoulder instead of the face, and only because he glanced up at the last second.

“Ow! Hey!”

Eilin scooped another handful of snow and let fly. This time he dodged it entirely.

“Alright,” Alistair said, and put the dagger down. “You’re really asking for it, you know that?”

 

* * *

 

 

Later they went back to their rooms, covered in melting snow and dry leaves, and stripped off their wet clothes.

Alistair sat with his bare back to her, unlacing his boots. Eilin sat up and wrapped her arms around his torso, her cheek against his back.

“You’re shivering,” she whispered.

“Well, we were rolling around in the snow for almost an hour,” Alistair said. “Is that any surprise?”

“I suppose not.” She kissed his shoulder and the nape of his neck, her lips hot against his chilled skin. “Let me warm you up.”

Alistair gently unlaced her hands and lay down on the furs. His hand found her back, thumb tracing the old scars with light pressure. Eilin leaned her cheek against his knee and watched the fire light turn his hair molten gold.

Alistair had always been handsome; age had only made him more so. There were crinkles at the corner of his eyes now, and silver strands amongst the dark blonde of his hair, but was she any different? They’d both survived beyond all expectations. They’d ruled a country for seven years, and they were both older if not wiser.

“Come on, love,” Alistair murmured. “Lie down, and we can warm each other up.”

“Oh, I’m plenty warm.” Eilin straddled his hips and leaned down to plant a kiss on his chest. “Let me help.”

Alistair still groaned and trembled same as he did the first night they lay together. He still had to hold on to something -- the blankets, the bedpost, her shoulders, her hair.

And like that first night, Eilin was not a patient woman. Neither was Alistair, it seemed. She’d hardly closed her mouth around him when he tugged her up, first gentle then firm, and met her mouth with a demanding kiss.

“Eager, are we?” Eilin laughed, when they separated.

Alistair’s hand slipped between her thighs. His fingers were cold, even more so on her burning flesh; his touches feather light. The breath escaped her all at once, and she melted against him.

“Eager, are we?” Alistair repeated. He sounded smug, enough to make her laugh breathlessly.

“I’m not -- “ she yelped when his thumb brushed her clit. “I’m not c-cold.”

“Of course not.” Alistair rolled her onto her back. “You never are.”

 

* * *

 

 

The fire was dying by the time they slumped back on the furs, smiling and weary with the sweat still cooling on their skin. Eventually Eilin got up to hang their damp clothes and clean up, while Alistair retrieved his smallclothes and trousers.

“I have something else for you,” Eilin said, after she’d pulled on dry clothes. “Another gift, of sorts.”

Alistair touched her face affectionately. “You’re too good to me.”

Eilin took his free hand and pressed it flat against her belly, underneath her robe.

“What are you -- “

“Just wait.” She moved his hand lower, just above her hips, to the subtle swell of her abdomen.

It took a few seconds for Alistair to realise. His eyes widened, and his fingers pressed against her belly like he was trying to steady himself.

“You’re not,” he breathed. “Are you?”

Eilin grinned.

“You!” Alistair pulled her to him and kissed her hard, lifting her onto her toes. “Wow -- I just -- when? _How?_ ”

He was grinning like a little boy, face flushed and hair tousled, and Eilin’s heart swelled with affection for him. She kissed his nose and cheeks and laced her hands around his neck. “How, do you say? Well, when a queen and a king love each other very much -- “

“Yes, alright,” he said and kissed her again, softer this time. “How long have you known?”

“Almost four months.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him. “I wanted to wait until you got back from Orlais. You’ve been so busy since … I wanted to tell you sooner. I’m actually surprised you didn’t notice,” she added thoughtfully.

Alistair made an odd sound, somewhat like a strangled cough. “I was … er … otherwise distracted.”

Fatigue washed over Eilin in a wave, and she had to grab him to steady herself. Her grip on his arm was light, but Alistair wasn’t easy to fool.

“Bed,” he said sternly, despite her quiet protest. “We’ve done quite enough this morning. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“Oh, please,” Eilin grumbled, but she let him help her into bed anyway. “The only way I could overexert myself is if I ran laps around the entire city.”

Alistair snorted, his head bent over the covers so she couldn’t see his face. He tucked her in and passed her the book on their nightstand.

“Alright,” he said, when he’d helped her sit up. “I have court, so I’ll be away for a few hours. Please try to sleep. Or read, or … something that doesn’t involve moving too much.”

“You’re going in that?”

“What?”

Eilin indicated his bare chest and half-unlaced trousers. It was a testament to how Alistair’s confidence had grown that he didn’t blush; instead he laughed and went to retrieve a clean shirt.

When he was gone, Eilin put down her book and settled against the pillows. Her hand found the familiar roundness of her belly, and she closed her eyes.

Maybe she would sleep. Just for a while.

 

 


End file.
